Somewhere (in my youth, and childhood)
by Lauryn Vi
Summary: One warm spring evening, nine-year-old Maria has a curious encounter with an esteemed young woman and a mysterious, dashing Captain.
1. Maria

Just a little piece originally inspired by TSOM's "Something Good" and a good ol' dash of curiosity (and my obsession over things that come full circle). Not exactly A/U, but a lot of creative license applied (I imagine many stars would have imploded for the rest to align and probably something funky happened between Mars and Saturn if this encounter actually occurred).

Thank you to augiesannie for helping me work through some early stage conundrums.

As always, all comments and feedback welcome!

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Chapter One

Maria

It was a Sunday. Maria remembered it was Sunday, because there had been no school.

As usual, she had snuck out early in the morning to escape – no, _avoid_ her uncle. She knew from the heavy snoring she could hear through his thin wooden door he had spent the night drinking at the tavern again. While trying on his better days, Maria had no doubt her uncle would be particularly surly and prone to violent outbursts when he woke up nursing a wicked hangover.

Sometimes, on Sundays, Maria would spend the morning sitting along the old brick wall across the street from the local church. She enjoyed listening to the tolling of the old bells in the steeple, and sometimes, when they left the doors open, she could catch a few phrases of the minister's deep voice conducting his sermon. But what she really loved was the singing of the hymns. With the voices of the choir and entire congregation raised in song, Maria would let the music wash over her and imagine she was listening to her own private concert.

But today was a gorgeous spring day, and Maria rather felt like being a part of nature. She wanted to get away from the buildings and the roads and the hurried sounds of carriages full of people who had somewhere to go. She didn't admit that part of her restlessness stemmed from watching the two girls who had been walking a little ahead of her, arm-in-arm like Maria used to do with her mother, dressed in their Sunday best. Maria had no Sunday best – she wore her usual coarse, plain dress and stockings with the hole in the toes. That was okay, because no tree nor brook nor bird cared what she wore. But desperately she longed for someone _she_ could link arms with as they walked together laughing down the street.

Maria spent the day in the meadows on the far side of the city from her uncle's crowded neighborhood. There, the wide streets of the wealthy part of Vienna gave way to grassy expanses and groves of birch trees. With no-one to reprimand her, Maria took off her hat, scarf, and shoes, and set them aside. Feeling free for the first time all week, she danced through the tall grass, and followed the gurgling of the stream, giving in to the magic of the warm spring air.

 _Life is in the little things_ , her father used to say. They would take long evening walks together, watching the moon rise over the countryside, listening to the lonely call of geese flying overhead. _Remember this_ , he would tell her. Or they would go into town, and walk along the main street, her sitting on his shoulders, admiring the beautiful store-front displays. He might buy her a small trinket, wrapped in a bit of brown paper. In the winter, her father would let her pick out a warm apple strudel from their favourite bakery, and together they would sit at the window, watching sleighs full of merry holiday revelers go by, fairy-like bells tinkling as the horses picked their way carefully down the road. _Remember this_ , he would say.

It had been many years since those memories, but Maria remembered every moment, and even though life was very different these days, she always reminded herself of the little things.

By the time she sat down for lunch, the hemline of her dress was soaked and a little dirty, and the hole in her stocking was rather larger than before. She only had with her a bit of bread and a small jar of jam. Maria's uncle never starved her, but with spending days at his factory job and nights at the tavern, he rarely had much time or money for the store. More often than not, he left her a few dimes on the table, and she would stop by the local baker after school for some bread, butter for him and jam for her, and call it a meal. But today, she feasted on the feeling of grass under her feet, the sounds of the bubbling brook, the fresh breeze that wafted from the mountains in the distance, and felt perfectly satisfied. She felt happy here. Safe. And it made her want to sing.

When Maria saw that the sun had begun to set and heard the bells of the distant Stephansdom tolling the late hour, Maria reluctantly gathered her shoes and hat, trying not to let her feet drag as she left her meadows for the dreary house she shared with her uncle. He didn't care much where she went or when she went home, but Maria always made sure she left enough time for her nightly book. She knew when she entered the house, her uncle would yell at her. He always seemed to be angry with someone or something – his work, the neighbors, the rising cost of a pint, the Church, the woman he met at the tavern – and never hesitated to give her an earful, bellowing the most colorful curse words that made her want to cover her ears. But Maria always endured his outbursts meekly, reminding herself at the hardest of times her uncle had taken her in after her parents' death, when he really didn't have to. There was something good about him. _I am grateful_ , she would chant to herself, drowning him out. And afterward, she would climb into bed and read, finding comfort in the beautiful words, getting lost in worlds of adventure and history, dashing heroes and happy endings, and then things didn't seem so bad.

As Maria walked past the large properties where the wealthy lived in Vienna, a brightly lit mansion shining through double iron-wrought gates caught her attention. She could see a long driveway opening onto a luxuriously manicured garden and a beautiful, stately house. She stopped, for she could hear the most glorious and lively music of an orchestra from within, playing a well-known folk song set to an upbeat tempo.

Maria was enthralled. She had many happy memories of her parents, but in her happiest ones, her father played the fiddle while her mother sang, and then one of them would spin across the room to catch her up in a dance. Their house was always filled with music. Maria knew that where there was music, there was laughter, and love. And this was the most beautiful music she'd ever heard. Her imagination quickly furnished a gold-gilded ballroom, a full orchestra, women in beautiful dresses with sparkling glasses of champagne, and a handsome boy offering his hand for a dance. In response, Maria curtsied, swept up her skirts, and started to sway in time with the music.

A loud banging of the gate snapped her out of her reverie. She looked up with huge eyes, heart jumping into her throat, thinking someone must have discovered her unwelcomed presence. But it was just a young woman in a beautiful white dress who, judging by her frantic footsteps and trailing blue sash, had just run through the gate and slammed it shut with force. For a second, Maria stood, arrested by this vision. The material of the dress was soft and flowing, delicately embroidered and sparkling with precious jewels, offsetting the girl's creamy skin and long auburn hair. Maria always had a bit of a weakness for pretty things, and in the moment, she thought this girl in her white dress was the loveliest thing she had ever seen.

Then, Maria realized the girl's eyes must be filled with tears, for she had run straight past her and not noticed her at all, and Maria thought she heard a half-strangled sob.

The girl had just taken a few hurried steps down the road when a frantic voice cried from the yard. "Wait!" Another young woman wearing a deep red dress and matching bolero appeared at the inside on the gate, grabbing the bars. "Where are you going?"

Maria quietly slipped off the path behind the nearest tree, not wanting to be seen.

"I'm leaving, Catherine!"

"Wait!" The girl called Catherine pleaded again. "Don't be ridiculous! Oh! But this is your favourite song!"

Maria quickly covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. She could clearly hear the song the orchestra was now playing. It was the Edelweiss waltz, and it was _her_ favourite song, too. Her father and mother would always dance together to this song, wherever it played, looking adoringly at each other the entire time. She knew it was really a dedication to Austria, but to her, it would always be a song for lovers.

"I don't care! Actually, I _hate_ this song. And I don't want to spend another minute in there, with him!"

"You don't have to spend it with him! Anyways, you haven't given him a chance to explain – "

"I _came_ to this dratted party for him to explain, and instead I find him – "

"Maybe there's a reason – "

"Don't you _dare_ defend him, Catherine!" The girl's voice had risen to a shout, her face contorting with anger.

"I'm not even - " Catherine held up her hands. "Alright, alright, I won't talk about him. But you don't even know where you're going!"

At this, the girl in the white dress glared defiantly at her friend. "I can find my way back to the hotel. I was raised in Milan. _And_ London, I might add. I can handle this little city."

Maria almost snorted. This young woman might be very beautiful, but she also sounded a little snobby.

"Your father will be _so_ mad when he comes for you!"

"Just tell him I left early."

"And make him boiling mad? I certainly won't!" Catherine scoffed. "Your father gets frightfully angry. Just come back… please? He's leaving tomorrow anyways – you don't _need_ to see him again."

This was apparently the wrong thing to say. The girl in white threw up her hands, and when she spoke, Maria knew from the despair in her voice that the argument was over. "Just – just don't. Leave me alone, please. Go back to the party." With that, she turned and continued down the path, ignoring her friend's sputters.

Maria glanced toward the gate, where Catherine was watching her friend's retreating back with a look of exasperation. Finally, she turned, and started to walk up the long driveway back to the house.

When Maria slipped back onto the path, the girl in white had disappeared around the corner. She hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. There was something undeniably romantic about heartbreak, and Maria was bursting with curiosity about the story behind it. It seemed her feet were taking her after the girl of their own accord.

But she made herself stop. _Think_ , Maria told herself sternly. She should go home, she knew. That was the sensible course of action. She never had any occasion to speak to these wealthy people, even though she'd pass them downtown from time to time, juggling expensive shopping bags and reeking of perfumes. It seemed Vienna's aristocracy existed in an entirely different world altogether, and why would they stoop to the level of _her_? And she shouldn't meddle, anyways. According to her teachers, she was _always_ meddling, getting into scrapes.

She sighed. Her mother never said she was meddling. _Ask questions, make friends, be honest, don't be afraid_ , she would tell Maria. Of course, her brilliant, vibrant mother also had a gift for making people like her, and Maria wasn't sure she could say the same. But underneath her curiosity, she felt a peculiar, irresistible pulling toward this strange girl, who loved the same song she did. Pursing her lips in sudden decision, Maria took off deliberately after her.


	2. Agathe

Thank you to all for your continued support and such lovely reviews! As this piece is basically just a chopped up loooong one-shot, I do hope to have everything up soon! :)

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Chapter Two

Agathe

Maria didn't have to go far. The girl in white had stopped at a deserted bench, a little ways off the side of the road. She was sitting – if it could be called that – rocking back and forth, twisting her hands together, too agitated to stay still. Maria watched as she gave one of her gloves a violent tug, and used the beautiful satin unceremoniously to wipe her cheeks. Then, she closed her eyes, still holding the glove against her face, giving in to a moment's pain. She bowed her head, shoulders slumping in defeat, and Maria felt she was seeing someone fall apart without having moved at all. Under the flickering shadows of the nearest lamplight, Maria thought she had never seen anyone more miserable or forlorn. How could she have imagined there was anything romantic about heartbreak?

Quietly, she approached. "Excuse me, miss?"

The girl looked up quickly, immediately drawing herself back together with astonishing discipline. Her eyes widened when she saw Maria. "Hello?" She said uncertainly.

For a moment, neither spoke, sizing the other up. Now a mere few feet away, Maria could see the girl was indeed very beautiful. It wasn't the sort of striking look that caught one's attention right away, but there was an enduring beauty in her high forehead, delicate cheekbones, and wide-set eyes framed by extraordinarily long lashes which made people want to keep looking. Her hair had been done in loose, becoming curls, and at her throat was a string of diamonds. She looked to be about eighteen or nineteen. Maria suddenly felt very self-conscious. She was a child compared to this regal vision, and wondered what the girl thought of her plain clothes and short hair that she cut herself. If it wasn't for the fact that her eyes were swollen, her face a little blotchy, and the slight stubborn tilt of her chin not unlike Maria's own, Maria might well have turned and fled.

"Were you – were you looking for me?" The girl's measured tones said she was used to being approached by strangers. Briefly, Maria wondered whether she had imagined her earlier moment of weakness.

There was no trace of anger left in her voice, but Maria shuffled uncomfortably under her appraising gaze. "I – err… I was passing by, and I couldn't help but overhear… I mean, I wondered if you might need…" She swallowed, and gestured back toward the mansion, suddenly unsure. She was certain both heard the offer she'd left unsaid – _if you might need help_ – and how ridiculous it seemed, coming from her.

"You were eavesdropping, you mean," the young woman accused, but her lips twitched in a smile.

Maria grinned back, glad she hadn't been found wanting. "I wasn't, miss," she replied archly. "If you were any louder, the whole block could have heard you."

"Miss?" The girl echoed, her smile widening. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Maria shook her head. "Should I?"

"No – no, I suppose not. It's just so, well, _rare_ to meet someone who doesn't have their nose in my affairs." Her frankness surprised a laugh out of Maria. The girl held out a hand. "It's Agathe. My name is Agathe."

"I'm Maria." She took the offered hand hesitantly, unsure what she was supposed to do with it. Agathe seemed unperturbed, catching Maria's hand and shaking it warmly. Then she made a face. "I suppose I shouldn't have shouted. I was just so upset."

"Yes, I noticed that." Maria paused, and when Agathe said nothing, offered shyly, "I know you don't like people interfering with your business – "

Her companion shook her head. "It's not that, precisely. It's just most of the time it's nothing but gossip. Or ulterior motives disguised as gossip. It wasn't bad when I lived with Grandpapa in Milan, but here – " she chuckled darkly, "you'd be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't know more about you then you do."

"So if you don't like it, why _are_ you here?" Maria asked curiously, perching on the bench beside her new acquaintance. She had only a vague idea where Milan was, but it seemed to her that somebody as rich as Agathe would have no trouble going anywhere she wanted.

"My mother and father, they live in Fiume. Papa owns the big Whitehead torpedo factory there. I grew up with Grandpapa on his estate, but he passed away last year, and my family thought it was time I made my debut to Austrian society. Since then, life has been a string of luncheons and balls and these evening _soirees_."

Maria gaped at the other girl, trying to imagine such a life in the spotlight, with no time to call your own.

"Oh, it's not all bad," Agathe added quickly, catching Maria's expression. "I was lucky to be sheltered from it for so long, and I can be nothing but glad for all I have… but it _can_ be a little stifling, at times. It's difficult, not having anyone to talk with. I miss chatting like this – thank you."

Maria beamed, pleased at the rare compliment. She was awed to realize that a girl who truly had everything could be lonely, just as she was. "I – I know how you must feel..." she began. Agathe gave a little encouraging nod, waiting for her to continue. She wanted to explain she felt the same way, living with her uncle, but she couldn't bring herself to talk about those conditions – most of all with this stately girl.

"It's too bad we didn't meet earlier," Agathe mused. Maria could tell she saw through her discomfort and had changed the topic on purpose, and was glad for it. "I think we could have been friends, you and I. But I'm leaving this week. I was only here in Vienna visiting with my Father."

Maria grinned at this, and declared, "I know we would have made good friends." Agathe raised her eyebrows questioning, and she explained, "we like the same song. I heard you, back there. The Edelweiss waltz."

"Oh!" Agathe looked delighted. "That one's my favourite! I'm sorry now I slandered it. It's my mother's favourite, too – she was a musician before she met my father. She taught me to play the violin and piano as a little girl."

"My parents weren't musicians," Maria said, "not really. But they loved it too – they used to dance to it all the time."

"Used to?"

"They both died of the fever."

"Oh, I'm sorry," her new friend said softly.

"It was a long time ago." Maria sighed. "It's wonderful to have a family that loves music, isn't it? Do you and your mother play together?"

"Oh yes, every evening we can. Sometimes we'll even play at parties. It's how I met him." There was a touch of wistfulness to Agathe's smile, but abruptly she shook her head, and her expression hardened. "But oh, now I do wish I hadn't!"

Maria's eyes widened, curious. "Him?"

Her companion exhaled shakily, her composure slipping a little. "Yes," she said, looking down at her hands. "But I'm afraid it isn't a very exciting story."

"I'm not asking to be entertained." Remembering that Agathe was protective of her privacy, she quickly added, "but only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." Agathe dropped her voice to a conspirator's whisper. "Besides, aren't we friends?"

Maria almost giggled, completely forgetting her nervousness. She was suddenly aware how skillfully Agathe had drawn her in, and trivialized the differences between them. "Alright," she said, a new eagerness in her voice, "tell me about him, then."

Agathe sat back, her expression thoughtful. "I met him in Fiume, earlier this year. He's an officer in the navy, and was in town to accept the post of commander for our new submarine. That evening, he attended a party my parents were hosting. It was quite an elaborate affair, and mother and I were playing for the guests, so I didn't notice him. But he sought me out afterward, and told me that – " she blushed, " – that he couldn't take his eyes off me."

"How does he look?" Maria whispered, entranced by the glimpse into this foreign world.

"He was wearing his Captain's uniform, and it made him look very tall. Distinguished. Commanding." Agathe spoke from somewhere far away. "I – I couldn't take my eyes off him, either. He has dark hair, and blue eyes just like the sea – sparkling when he's happy, stormy and unfathomable when he's not." Maria nodded, even though she had never seen the sea.

"But he had a quality about him completely different from anyone I'd met. Something intense. Passionate." Agathe shrugged helplessly. "Maybe it's because he's seen so much, but I always felt he didn't belong in a ballroom, discussing the latest romances or the new escapades of Max Detweiler over hor d'oeurves and a glass of Prosecco. But the funny thing is, he owned every room he entered. It was like he made everything his own little world, and whenever he looked at me, I just felt he wanted me to be a part of it. And his hands! Oh, he has the most gorgeous hands – confident, but they can be so gentle when he – "

Maria quickly turned a snort into a cough. She didn't need to know what his hands looked like or what they did.

Agathe started, coming out of her reverie with a quick intake of breath. She chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry, Maria – I'd forgotten…"

She wondered what Agathe had forgotten. Her inexperience? Her tender age? Her very presence?

"Well, anyway, we became better acquainted over the months. We met at balls all over Fiume, and I – I came to Vienna with my father because I knew he'd be here. We'd sweep across the dance floors, and everyone would tell us what a wonderful couple we made…" Agathe stopped, catching Maria's raised eyebrows. "What?"

"Can he dance?" She blurted, trying to imagine her mysterious handsome sea sailor dancing in heavy army boots.

Agathe giggled. "Of course. And he does so quite wonderfully. It's part of the training for the officers."

"Oh."

"I know," Agathe said quietly, " how dreadfully shallow we must seem to you, this endless frivolity."

Maria shook her head. She _had_ wondered how an evening of dancing and gaiety could ever pass for love, but perhaps that was the way the mysterious act of courting was done with the aristocracy.

"It's alright to think so Maria. I wanted more, too," Agathe told her. "The happiest times were when we could steal a few moments for ourselves. We'd find the music room, and I'd play piano, and we'd sing together. He has this low, velvety voice that just sends shivers down my spine. We'd look at each other, and oh, I could hardly breathe… And sometimes we'd find the library, and read out loud to each other – well, _sometimes_ we'd read, anyway… He loves history, so I made him read Jane Austen." Maria shared an amused snicker at this. "I'd always loved stories with happy endings, and oh, how I'd started to hope he'd be the one I could share mine with. I've had admirers in the past, but I'd never felt this way before."

"Do you… love him?" Maria asked hesitantly. She didn't know much about falling in love, but she'd had parents who loved each other and loved her very much, and she _knew_ love. She knew that contrary to what her novels would have her believe, love was more than a bold declaration in words and always affected more than the heart. She didn't know if love was supposed to send shivers down one's spine or prevent one from breathing – but it _could_ be in a glance, or a whisper, or a song. Or a dance – why not? Maria's memory was full of such small moments and simple acts, treasured because they'd been coloured with the warmth of love.

Agathe was silent for a moment, perhaps reflecting on her own thoughts of love. Then she said, her voice low, "yes, yes I believe I do."

Her intensity made Maria hold her breath. "And I thought he felt the same, but I – oh, everybody was saying what a perfect match we were, and how they expected our engagement any day now… and I suppose I let myself believe them. What a stupid thing to do. I – I even allowed myself to start thinking about my trousseau. He never mentioned a thing about getting married." Agathe gasped this last word like it had stabbed her. She flushed, looking away for a moment. In a flash of pity and understanding, Maria started to tell Agathe she didn't need to continue, the same moment Agathe took a deep, shuddering breath, and went on.

"He told me last week he was leaving for service soon – he returns to Pula tomorrow – and it would be best if we were no longer involved. _Involved._ That was the very word he used, like I had been some sort of scarlet woman! He even _thanked_ me for my company. Oh, but I was a fool to believe he ever wanted anything more than somebody to have fun with! You see, he has – had – a bit of a reputation, and all the girls told me how remarkable it was that I had reformed him." Agathe's voice was full of bitterness. "I refused to believe I was somehow just another of his conquests. I guess I was in denial, and came tonight to meet him anyways. But as soon as he saw me, he told me his dance card was full! And then, just now, I saw him dancing with Eliza, and he was sliding his hand – "

Agathe stopped abruptly, suddenly aware her companion couldn't be more than ten years of age.

But Maria had jumped up, blue eyes blazing with indignation. She held very treasured ideals of love, and this villain in Agathe's story had crossed every one of them. And while she knew little of the ways of men, she'd seen enough of her uncle's friends to know a rake when she heard one.

"This – this _person_. He's tall, you said? Dark hair, blue eyes? Would he be wearing uniform?"

"No – o," Agathe looked at her livid companion uncertainly. "He's in a formal evening suit. But he's wearing his decorations. Most officers dress that way for galas. Why?"

"What's his name?"

"What?"

"His name, what is it?" Maria couldn't believe Agathe was acting so calmly about this betrayal.

"Geo - " She hesitated, and seemed to change her mind. "Von Trapp. Captain Von Trapp. _Why,_ Maria?" Agathe had a certain sternness, and it flared under the chaotic temper of her young companion.

Maria checked herself at Agathe's tone. Taking a deep breath, she explained, "your Captain owes you an apology. And an explanation. I'm going to make sure he gives it."

"Oh, oh no! Please, don't. It would be so humiliating!"

"Well, he's got to hear from someone." Maria stomped a foot impatiently.

"No, Maria. I feel wretched enough. Coming here tonight, it was a mistake. The sooner we part ways, the better. He's – he's never cared about me that way, and it's obvious he's already forgotten me. I – I simply let myself get carried away by what everyone was saying, which is mortifying enough. He never said we had a future together."

"I don't believe you, Agathe," Maria said firmly. "If everything was as you described, there must have been _some_ moments of truth. At least he owes you an explanation. Wouldn't you like to hear it?"

Agathe paused, conflicted. Maria followed up her advantage, thinking quickly. "What if I could ask him in a way that doesn't reveal - " she waved around " – what we talked about?"

The other girl's eyes were huge. "Could you?" She breathed.

Maria nodded. "Of course, I'll just find some way to get in, and find him…"

Agathe was shaking her head before she had even finished. "No no! Oh, what was I thinking! Maria, you mustn't. That crowd, well, some people aren't very nice, and that's putting it mildly. If you fall in with the wrong sort – "

But Maria had made up her mind. She could never sit and wait for things to happen. She was racked by a sense of injustice, and a need to defend Agathe from her own kindness and willingness to forget. It was the least she could do for this lovely girl who had made her feel, for the first time in a long while, like an equal.

"Don't worry, I'll be just fine. Now, I shouldn't delay any more." Maria said this bouncing on her toes, as if ready for flight. "Wait right here, please."

"For you?"

"No, for him, of course! And Agathe - " Maria had already started down the path. She stopped, and glanced back at the unlikely friend she had made for an evening. For a moment, she didn't want to leave. "I hope your story has a happy ending."

"Maria!" Agathe called after her, and there was a split second of hesitation where Maria would always wonder what she had been about to say. "Thank you."

Maria ran back to the gates of the mansion, leaving a bemused Agathe staring after her. She tried the handle, but it was locked. Maria sighed. She would have to find another way in. She circled the perimeter of the estate's wall, wondering if she could scale it. What she really needed was a tree to climb. Luck was on her side as she turned the corner toward the back of the house. A row of apple trees in full bloom lined the outside of the wall, its fragrance sweet in the night air. Any other time, this sight would have thrilled her senses, but now, she was a girl with a task at hand. Without hesitation, Maria climbed nimbly up the nearest tree until she could peer over the wall.

From here, she could see the lavish garden, surrounded by tall, neatly trimmed hedges and absurdly sculpted bushes. A long terrace lined the far side, displaying a tempting glimpse of the gala within. Warm light spilled through the open double French doors, and even from her perch, Maria could hear the orchestra playing a lively Viennese waltz. Several guests lingered on the terrace, champagne flutes in hand. She caught glints of light reflecting off the decorative medals against the men's suits, and remembering Agathe's description, supposed these must be officers. As she watched, one of the couples turned to go inside. The remaining couple stood talking for moments longer, looking outward over the balustrade. Maria was too far to make out anything they were saying, but once or twice she saw the young man's gaze sweep over the very spot where she was perched. She watched as the woman rested a jeweled hand briefly on his shoulder, then walked toward the open doors. She turned at the doorway, saying something. He shook his head, and she disappeared inside. The young man did several lengths of the terrace, pacing and strolling by turns. Finally, he too, disappeared around the far corner of the building.

Swiftly, Maria clambered down the branches hanging over the wall, and dropped the last several feet to the ground. She stumbled, tearing her dress a little and scraping her knee. Examining the tear ruefully, Maria suddenly realized she still had to find some way _out_ of this place. Well, worry about that later, she told herself.

Doggedly, she made her way across the expansive gardens, following the sound of music. She stopped at the last row of hedges before the terrace, hesitating in the shadows of the baluster, and considered her options. Maria had just begun wondering if she could pass as a servant girl when a clear male voice commented from directly behind her, "you seem lost."

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A/N: There are precious few facts on Agathe and how A/G meet, and I may have also made up her character along the way (though I based some of her personality traits on the older VT children... that counts, right?) - so please, do go easy on her (and my rather fumbly attempts to tell a bit of her story).

Also, I'm very sorry to cast such a poor first impression of our Captain.


	3. Georg

A bit of an unconventional and rather challenging spin (thank you again to augiesannie for her insights), but I had a fun time with this "what if" encounter. Hope you enjoy and thanks for stopping by!

I might be taking a writing hiatus for the next few months, but I love this fandom so much I will be lurking around for sure!

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Chapter Three

Georg

 _You seem lost._

Maria whirled, ready to bolt. It was the young man she had seen on the terrace earlier. Up close, he didn't appear so very young – perhaps in his mid to late twenties. He had piercing blue eyes, a prominent nose, and there were already little flecks of grey amidst the dark hair around his ears. A row of brightly polished decorative medals contrasted sharply against his dark suit. Briefly, she wondered what acts of bravely had earned him all those honors. There was a severity to his posture that said he didn't take things lightly, but she sensed a carefully contained energy about him that made her persist in thinking of him as a young man.

He was regarding her with frank curiosity. There was a touch of humour on his lips, which made Maria feel quite confident he wasn't one of 'the wrong crowd' Agathe had been so worried about. Nonetheless, he was getting in the way of her task, and she replied curtly, "no, I'm not, thank you." She half turned away in hopes that he would leave her alone.

"Ah, okay, then." He didn't seem taken aback by her dismissal. If anything, he took her words as a challenge, and stepped closer. "But I must confess to a certain amount of confusion – I don't believe we've met before. Who are you?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped. She didn't need him to interrogate her, especially not in that deceptively gentle tone. Maria had almost told him who she was! She would have to be more careful.

"Perhaps not." The young man held up both hands in an appeasing gesture, moving all the while to stand beside her. Maria resisted the urge to move away, linking her hands behind her back. Both were turned slightly toward the house, but she could tell he was surveying her from the corner of his eye. She had never felt more out of place next to this tall, distinguished officer, and wondered uneasily what he made of her. "It's just, you seem a little…" he hesitated, and she stiffened, "… young, to be attending this party."

His voice was warm and light. It was a tone that most certainly did not accuse her of trespassing. Maria softened a little. "I'm looking for someone."

He smiled. "You seem a little young for that endeavor as well."

Her eyes narrowed. Was he laughing at her?

She studied him covertly as he had her only moments before. His smile transformed his entire face. While undeniably handsome, there had been something cold and arrogant in his chiseled features – like a classical Greek statue, all polish and marble – that made Maria feel defensive. But when he smiled, his face brightened playfully and his eyes twinkled, reminding her instead of the dashing, wicked heroes of her old books. Well, he was certainly dashing. Maria wondered if he was wicked, as well.

"Are you always so suspicious of every girl you meet?" She asked severely.

"Ah. And here I was, trying to be charming," he quipped.

"Alright then – let's start with what I might call _you_ ," Maria challenged, setting her jaw stubbornly.

"Hmm… well, you could call me Captain." He saw Maria raise her eyebrows in disbelief, and countered, "at least that's the truth, which, I might add, is more than what you're telling me about yourself. You have to admit, it's not every day you find a… er, _sweet_ young lady wandering around the gardens by herself during the middle of a ball."

 _In a dirty, torn dress_ , Maria could bet he was thinking, but glad he did not say aloud. "I could say the same about you, _Captain._ "

He smiled again, but it was a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You might say I'm looking for someone too."

Maria was taken aback. There was a perceptible change to his voice; something sad and a little bitter that told Maria this was not a time to pull his leg. "Well, I'm not looking for me," she explained instead. "I'm helping somebody."

"Oh-h. That's very gallant of you."

She rolled her eyes. "I know – especially when I'm stuck talking with the likes of _you_." Maria felt fairly sure he was making fun of her again, and was tired of his banter. "And I wish you wouldn't tease me."

"I'm not teasing," he replied seriously. "I was curious, and you haven't given me a straight answer." He looked her over thoughtfully. "Well, it appears we're both looking for someone. But in my case, I'm afraid I've already lost her, so perhaps I could make myself useful for you. I can't promise to know everyone here, but maybe I can point you in the right direction. Who is it you're trying to find?"

Maria considered his offer carefully. It sounded genuine enough, but she was acutely aware of her promise to protect Agathe's secret. "Just someone who broke the heart of a friend."

The Captain looked at her sharply. "Hmm, I see. So, um, why are _you_ looking for him, may I ask?"

"Because he's hurt her, and he had no right to do it. He needs somebody to tell him so… and well," Maria continued, gathering steam, "he clearly has no clue what it is to love somebody. You can't just _pretend_ to be in love. You can't go around making them fall in love with you for _amusement_. When you say 'I love you', you have to _mean it_." Maria flushed, and stopped. Her companion was looking at her with a rather strange expression on his face, and she looked down, embarrassed. She had never been good at hiding her thoughts, and under the strange excitement of the evening, the words had tumbled out before she knew it.

"What is your friend's name?" He spoke softly, and no trace of laughter remained in his voice. She had his full attention.

"I – I can't tell you that."

"And I suppose you can't tell me the name of the scoundrel who broke her heart, either."

"No. No, I can't."

"And surely you can't tell me what he's done – specifically – that has you lamenting his pitiful excuse for love."

Maria eyed him. He had turned back toward the terrace, for which she was glad. It was easier to think when he wasn't staring at her, and gave her time to rally her thoughts. Despite his rank, the young man beside her – the Captain, her mind supplied – had been nothing but good-humored. He wasn't kind, per se. On the contrary, his direct line of questioning had made her quite uncomfortable. And unlike Agathe, who had been an open book, he offered nothing about himself. But there was something about him that was gentle and inviting all the same. Perhaps it was only that she hadn't known much kindness, or indeed, met many people who valued her opinions, but something about him made her want to talk and talk and talk.

Of course, her uncle always said people who were too nice had their own motives. But try as she might, she couldn't imagine what this Captain would want with the likes of her.

He remained silent, waiting for her to sort through her thoughts. Maria considered what she could tell this man about Agathe's situation. After all, she needed help, and he had offered it. "His dance card was full," she replied finally. That was innocuous enough.

The young Captain nodded gravely. "An inevitable regret, sometimes."

"Perhaps when you're… unattached," Maria allowed, thinking about it. "But certainly not when you're courting someone else. Not when you love them, or… or when you've made them think they love you."

Deep in thought, Maria missed the look of intensity in her companion's gaze that had the swiftness and clarity of a checkmark.

"You shouldn't… you _can't_ – _take on_ with someone when you're in love with someone else, can you?"

The silence between them was palpable. "No, you can't," he agreed, and his voice was very still.

The Captain didn't speak for a long time, and Maria wondered if he had forgotten about his offer to help her. In fact, judging by the faraway look in his blue eyes, he seemed to have forgotten her, altogether. It surprised her when he spoke.

"You seem rather angered with him," was his observation. "If you found him – what would you do? Shout at him and give him a piece of your mind?"

Maria stared at him. It was true, that was the thought on her mind when she had tumbled into this strange setting, along with a few other choice words. But somehow, after her conversation with this man, she didn't feel quite so angry anymore. "I – well, he behaved very badly, and I _did_ come to tell him so. But there might be an explanation, don't you think? And I do think Aga-my friend deserves to hear it, from the very beginning. Even if he doesn't love her, I think he needs to make things right in what ways he can. Since he lost his first chance, perhaps he could use a second. What?" The young Captain was staring at her again, with the oddest look in his eyes.

"I was wrong. You aren't being gallant by coming here tonight. You're bold, and courageous. And you were right, all the things you said." He glanced down, and if she didn't know better, Maria would have said he looked humbled. Suddenly, a question formed in her mind regarding her companion's identity. Could he be – ?

"We can be such fools in love." He said this simply, openly. Maria watched him, turning her revelation over in her mind. "Sometimes, we don't recognize love until it's staring us in the face – but that is forgivable. At least it's an honest mistake. Other times, we're horribly, selfishly afraid, and we push it away before it has a chance to hurt us. That kind of act cannot be forgiven. You're being very kind not to give him the lashing he deserves."

There was a solemn significance in the quietness of his voice. Maria _was_ almost quite certain he was who she was looking for. She could ask him, she thought. But somehow, during their conversation, the dynamic between the officer and girl-child had shifted. Maria felt that she, now, held the upper hand. "Are you telling me," she navigated her words carefully, "that a seasoned officer such as yourself would turn away in the face of fear?"

"Inexcusably. Our bravery doesn't extend far onto land, I'm afraid. Particularly not in areas of love."

She regarded her companion with a new sort of compassion. The love Maria had been taught had no place for fear. It had been simple, and whole, and she had never ever doubted it. But since then, she'd had plenty of reasons to doubt. She knew about things that hurt, and hurt terribly. She knew about fear. But at least during those moments, she had her mother's voice whispering in her ear, _don't be afraid, Maria. Have confidence._ And so she did.

Perhaps all the Captain needed was a champion in his ear.

"Well, Captain," Maria encouraged, "what sorts of things – hypothetically speaking, of course – does one fear about love?"

A small smile appeared across his face at her willingness to play along. "Well, let's see. For one, sometimes you realize the person who has stolen your heart is so very out of reach. For example, an aristocratic young woman from the very crème de la crème of the European social register, with everyone from the English Channel to the Bosporus strait knowing her name, taking up with a mere navy commander?"

Maria smiled back sympathetically. There was one good thing about her lot in life – she would never have to worry about these problems of status! "This isn't the navy, Sir," she reminded him gently. "Rank doesn't matter."

"Particularly a navy commander trailing the worst sort of reputation?"

"Not if said commander was willing to redeem that reputation. He only feels unworthy because he needs more confidence in himself, I should think."

"You don't think she deserves somebody better?"

Maria made a face. "I thought I was talking to a Captain, not a chicken."

The young Captain laughed at this, acknowledging her bold move with a drop of his eyes. However, his face was serious when he spoke, and Maria could tell by his tone that this was his greatest fear. "And what about the navy commander having to go into battle? He might be fearless on his own, but he would very much be afraid of death if he had something to lose. How would he bear the thought of leaving his future wife or children behind?"

For a moment, Maria fought to breathe. She knew by the sharp barbs of pain lancing through her with each breath there was a painful truth to his question. They were silent while she considered her answer.

"Well, Captain," she said finally, "I don't know much about going to war. But I _do_ know something about loss. I know that it is terrible, and lonely, and just when you think you're getting past it, something triggers the pain all over again. I know it's a grief you never truly recover from. But Captain, I also know that a love great enough is worth the risk, and worth the pain. And I'll tell you something else – " Maria paused. She was about to reveal some of her deepest feelings to this man, and the weight of her emotions made her hesitate. "When you love – or are loved – even after you lose it, it's never truly gone. It'll be everywhere you look… and once you've _had_ that kind of love, **somewhere** deep within you'll always believe you can find it again, no matter how hard things get."

The last few words were almost lost in the tremble of her voice, and Maria was surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears. She hastily dabbed at them, glancing shyly at her companion, afraid she had made a fool of herself. But she saw that his eyes, too, seemed overly bright. He held her gaze, acknowledging a connection between them in that moment which neither fully understood.

"I do believe you're right, and I have a feeling I'll remember your words for a very very long time." He spoke in a tone of unconcealed admiration. "You know a lot about love. You must come from a family who love each other very much."

Maria looked down at her hands. "Yes," she whispered, "I did."

"Oh." He let the moment pass. "I'm sorry."

She glanced at him, smiling a little to let him know she wasn't offended. "It's not your fault."

"Nor yours either, I'll bet." He smiled back at her.

At that moment, a young lady dressed in a magnificent royal blue ball gown appeared in the doorway. Her voice shattered the dreamlike connection, startling them both. "Georg, darling! There you are. You've missed the last six dances! We were getting a little worried about you. And you've been here this whole time, hiding out on the terrace with –" She stopped and stared at Maria, speechless.

Defiantly, Maria stared back at her. Her face reddened as the girl looked her over slowly, lingering on her torn dress and discolored hemline, eyes wide. Beside her, she felt her companion tense. "Yes, and she's the best company I've had all night."

The Captain waved at the look of angry shock on the other girl's face. "I do appreciate your – er, _concern_. But it's quite alright, Cecilia. You can go back inside, because I'll have to skip the rest of the dances, too, I'm afraid. I have someplace to be and something very important to do, tonight."

Maria watched the graceful arc of his hands. _Confident, yet gentle_. She remembered Agathe's words, and grinned inwardly.

In her moment of distraction, the woman had disappeared inside, and the Captain was looking at her with a small smirk on his face.

"I suppose _you_ can tell me where I'm about to go?"

Maria grinned, suddenly feeling happier and lighter. "Yes Captain. You'll want to walk just up that path there." She gestured down the road to the far side of the mansion, where she knew Agathe would be waiting.

"Thank you." Her companion nodded, eyes flickering briefly in the directly she'd indicated. "But first – would you give me the pleasure of taking you home?" He offered his arm chivalrously.

"No… no thank you," Maria stuttered, charmed despite herself. Now that she had seen the young Captain at his most vulnerable, she realized she liked his dashing side, too. But she _couldn't_ have him see where she lived, or whom she lived with. "Actually, I – I was just passing by…" her eyes darted to the apple trees across the garden. He didn't miss a beat.

"I _thought_ that was you up there."

Maria laughed a little ruefully. "I don't _always_ break rules, you know," she muttered.

"Well, I know two people who are going to be very thankful you did tonight." He chuckled, and took her by the elbow. "Come on, I'll walk you out the proper entrance."

She let him lead her around the mansion, down the long driveway, and out the gate. She heard the soft click as he shut it behind them, like a punctuation that marked the end of her adventure.

The young Captain stopped, and turned to face her. "Thank you – for what you did."

Throat suddenly tight, Maria could only nod.

"Things may be hard for you now, but I believe you have a great capacity to love. And one day, as you told me, you'll find that love again. You'll belong to a family who loves you… and a gentleman who loves you, when you're old enough." He winked at her.

Maria looked down to hide the tears that had sprung into her eyes at his words. He held out a hand, and knowing what was expected of her this time, she shook it gladly.

* * *

Postscript

Maria

That night, Maria lay in her small bed, watching the wind ruffling the thin curtains over her window. When she had arrived home, she'd found her uncle at the dining table, nursing his late night bottle, predictably furious. He had lost his week's earnings at a local gambling joint, and she half-listened from the doorway as he blamed everyone from the dealer to the Emperor-King of Austria-Hungary for his misfortunes.

When Maria was finally able to escape to her room, she prepared for bed as she usually did. But instead of opening her latest book and getting lost in its pages, she thought about Agathe and her young captain. She wondered if they had reunited yet. Maria rather liked to think they had, and probably at this moment his hands were doing whatever it was they were so good at.

They'll probably get married, those two lovebirds. And have lots of babies. Maria grinned at the thought.

She thought about the young Captain's words. Perhaps things were wicked and miserable for her now, but he'd said that someday, they would get better again. She liked the way he'd said it, with full conviction. She too, would have to believe it was true.

And slowly, Maria let herself fall asleep, a smile against her lips, still thinking of love and family.

* * *

She awoke, suddenly, disoriented. Looking around in confusion, she had a hard time placing where she was. Was she at her uncle's old house? A room at the abbey? _When_ was it? What a vivid dream she had. _Seven children!_


End file.
